


who are you

by lobotomutt



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Major Spoilers, Other, kinda based on theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 03:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobotomutt/pseuds/lobotomutt
Summary: Though, perhaps she'd been nothing all along.





	who are you

**Author's Note:**

> a ton of this is probably inaccurate but i got emotional abt a dumb theory i had in my head for tsumugi
> 
> poor gal is fucked up

He wasn't dead.

Shirogane felt her breath catch in her throat. Rantarou was supposed to _die_ , but he hadn't. That slimy little bastard avoided death again. God _damn_ him. God damn him to hell. She hated to have to interfere with the show- it made it less authentic and more staged- but she couldn't handle him surviving another season.

She approached him from behind and firmly slammed a ball into the back of his head, effectively killing the boy in an instant. She tried to convince herself that she didn't care much for the murder- that it was a necessary evil- but a part of her told her otherwise. Her stomach was crawling. Flip-flopping uncomfortably.

It was as if someone else was trying to claw its way to the surface. Someone who'd been forced away long ago. Someone who, much like Rantarou, was supposed to be dead. Tsumugi Shirogane drew in a deep breath and turned away from the scene, making great haste to return to the others.

That clawing feeling would go away soon enough.

\--

She found herself double-taking whenever she walked past a mirror. A stray question- a voice- seemed to pipe up in her mind. It always said the same thing, always asked the same question.

  
_"Are you okay with who you are?"_

Shirogane would reply to that little voice with 'of course'. She was content with who she was. She was successful, she had her life together. What on earth did she have to be disappointed in?

_"Are you okay with who you've made yourself?"_

It was that second question that left her thinking. She'd altered her own personality to fit into this game. Molded herself out to be a mastermind worthy of praise and the kind of attention ones prior had been given. She was sadistic, not one to suspect, given that kind of adorable innocence that would catch most viewers off guard. Nobody was going to think of her as the mastermind.

She's try to walk away from that mirror insisting she was alright with it. She'd try to puff her chest out and move away, but that nagging little voice in the back of her mind would tell her otherwise.

_"You were kind, once."_

Kindness was a boring trait to have.

_"You're not you anymore."_

The old her wasn't a desirable character on a show. Too ditzy. Too flighty. Too passionate. Too naïve.

_"What happened to you?"_

"I made myself better." Shirogane mumbled bitterly to herself, her own gaze locked with her reflection.

\--

She had dreams, sometimes.

Of Rantarou. Of him dying. Of _her_ dying. It was a strange dream to have- her bashing another Shirogane's skull in. It was much more violent in this dream. There was more blood. More pleading. More sobbing. But she kept going at it.

The sight of herself in that pretty school uniform of hers being the meek and soft-spoken sweetheart she used to be made her sick.

That Tsumugi Shirogane was supposed to be dead, but she always resurfaced. She always asked her future self- her new self- why. Why she was doing this. Why she thought this was okay.

Her old self never had her questions answered before her skull was caved in.

\--

She knew she was going to die. The world around her had erupted into a chorus of explosions and cracks and bangs. Rocks fell around her and she waved. Shirogane's expression was blank- flat-faced.

She was expecting a rush of euphoria. She thought she'd coded herself to be a masochist- to be excited by despair. Perhaps she was wrong. She felt nothing but dread.

She felt guilt.

She wanted to cry, she really did. She wanted to burst into genuine sobs. To apologize for what she'd done- for what she was, now. Instead, her expression remained grim and stony-faced.

The world came crashing down around her and she died- releasing nothing but a sharp scream as a burning sensation spread throughout her entire body, and then there was numbness. Then there was nothing. She was nothing.

Though, perhaps she'd been nothing all along.


End file.
